


To Be Alive

by doylefan22



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylefan22/pseuds/doylefan22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isolde discovers that there’s nothing wrong with anything that makes you feel alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Alive

Isolde grinned as the next man rushed to attack her, his sword raised and a ragged cry of aggression on his lips. She dispatched him quickly, blocking his first, unskilled strike and then forcing his sword down before elbowing him the face and running him through. Simple and not a scratch on her. This kind of battle rarely tested her and took little thought, the most prevalent notion in her mind not about what her next move would be, but that she really shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as she was. It wasn’t ‘right’ and she was certain that Gwen would disapprove.

Gwen had been the one to offer their help to the village, promising that they’d get rid of the bandits who’d been attacking and pillaging, but she never took relish in having to kill, no matter how necessary. She carried out the mission with grim determination, putting what Isolde had taught her to good use, but clearly regretting it’d come to this. Morgana and Morgause, by comparison, worked battle with ruthless efficiency, displaying no emotion at all. They were both cold warriors, dispatching their foes with blades and magic, doing what needed to be done and showing no pity to those who’d chosen this path.

But Isolde…she was different from them all - fighting like this made her feel alive. She couldn’t help it; she’d lived her whole adult life on a narrow ledge, keeping one step ahead of others. Fighting, tricking, gambling and, with a bit of luck, wallowing in the sweetness of victory and profit. It was dangerous, yes, but also exciting. The only other thing in life that made her feel this vibrant was when she grabbed Gwen close and kissed her with intent.

Although, she supposed, that was a far healthier thrill than having to spill the blood of others to keep her own pumping.

Barely distracted by her thoughts, she dealt with another brutal attacker, the man powerful but lacking finesse as she used her nimble feet to outwit and undo him. Overhead, a cry shrieked out and a shadow moved across the ground. Aithusia circled warningly, swooping low, ready to enter the fray if she was needed. Morgana had told her to hold back, dragon’s fire being hard to control and likely to cause collateral damage to the village. Still, there was no point in her leaving entirely; a threatening dragon was a great distraction and had definitely made some of the attackers think twice and turn tail.

Seeing the numbers thinning, Isolde worked her way back towards Gwen. She knew that Gwen was completely competent in handling herself by now, but it wasn’t really protectiveness that drew her in; she just felt a need to be near her. Perhaps they could get some time alone after this…

“You’d think,” she joked, a light perspiration on her forehead and a playful spark in her eyes, “that they would’ve got the message by now.”

“Desperate men are not smart men,” Gwen pointed out, looking equally ruffled by the hard action.

Isolde grinned wickedly. “You mean like your old lover?”

Gwen’s look was scolding, if only seen for a moment before she stood back to back with Isolde, ready to fend off the last group who were converging on the pair of them.

“Arthur was never desperate.”

“Really?” Isolde teased between sharp breaths and swings of her sword. Two more men down. “You mean he never desperately wanted you?”

She could almost hear Gwen’s eye roll.

“Not in the way that you’re thinking.”

“Not at all? He never even pushed you up against the wall in a dark corridor?” She almost shouted over the clash of swords, the blood pounding through her veins making her words bold. “He didn’t touch you until you were breathless and begging and swearing devotion?”

“No, that was just you.”

The man Isolde was currently fighting looked shocked and she used his distraction to bash him on the head, knocking him clean out.

“Well then,” she concluded, “if that isn’t proof that he wasn’t a smart man…”

Gwen tutted. “He was just being a gentleman.”

“And I wasn’t?”

“Never.”

“That’s why you liked me.”

Isolde’s voice was full of confidence and she turned, ready to help Gwen with the other attackers only to find that she’d already dealt with them, looking rather pleased with herself when faced with the mild surprise on Isolde’s face.

“And,” Gwen concluded, “for the record, you were the one swearing devotion.”

Her kiss was hard, passionate and unexpected, leaving Isolde truly weak at the knees. This is what she needed now - an even higher thrill - and she eagerly gave herself to it, reckless and bold as her mind filled with desires. She could pick Gwen up and carry her off behind one of the buildings, roughly shove her hand in her breeches and fuck her with her fingers until Gwen was the one begging with devotion. It would be perfect and Isolde’s body ached fiercely with the wanting.

Gwen pulled away, just for a moment to regain her breath, looking at Isolde with heated eyes that told her there was unlikely be any objection to her plan. 

Suddenly though, Gwen’s expression changed, eyes widening. Without a word, she bodily yanked Isolde aside, out of reach of the long bladed knife that’d been aiming for her back; the man that Isolde had hit on the head wasn’t as unconscious as he looked. 

Thanks to Gwen’s intervention, he missed his initial target, but she wasn’t quite quick enough for her own sake, the weapon plunging down and going deep into her thigh instead. Isolde caught Gwen as she crumpled with a sharp cry of pain.

The man seemed about to take advantage of the moment of weakness - Isolde looking dumbfounded - and attack again. Before he could reach for another weapon though, he jerked with a sharp intake of breath, eyes glassing over as he slumped forward. A farmer’s fork was sticking out of his back and, behind him, Morgause looked on, fury in her amber eyes.

Turning her attention back to where it was needed, Isolde swore several times as she placed Gwen gently on the ground, hearing her lover’s gasps of pain and ragged breathing.

“It’s all right,” Isolde murmured, trying not to panic. “It’s all right.”

And it would be, she schooled herself, forcing thoughts to come from her head and not her heart. The wound was nasty but wasn’t near anything vital. Morgana was an exceptional healer too; Gwen would be in pain, but her life was in no danger.

As if summoned by that thought, Morgana arrived, dropping down on her knees next to them. Fortunately there were few attackers left and Morgause was dealing with them swiftly.

“Your knife,” Morgana demanded of Isolde, holding out her hand in expectation. 

Adrenaline and shock had put a slight tremor into Isolde’s hand, the sharp slap of reality having knocked the thrill out of her, but she didn’t fumble, handing the blade straight over. Morgana used it to cut open Gwen’s breeches around the wound, tearing the material wide so she could get a better look. There was a lot of blood.

“Now I have to sew those too,” Gwen said shakily and Isolde was glad to hear her attempt humour. Even if her face was ashen and she was covered in a cold sweat, laying back heavily in Isolde’s arms. “You three are completely useless when it comes to the basics.”

“You’ll have to teach me, my love,” Isolde whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, needing to feel her as much as she wanted to comfort.

Gwen reached for her hand, squeezing it and wincing as Morgana prodded the wound lightly. 

“I must remove the blade,” the sorceress reasoned simply. “But there’ll be a lot of bleeding unless we stem it properly first.”

She stood, not bothering to explain herself and looked up to the sky.

Aithusia landed within moments. She was the size of a horse now and weighed probably more but there was a delicacy and grace to movements that belied her stature. She moved to where Morgana was waiting, making a strange, reptilian sound of greeting, nuzzling her gently. Isolde shivered. There was something still so unnerving about how the great creature was around Morgana. There was a bond between them that was old and deep and something which Isolde felt was absolutely beyond her understanding. It was almost like she saw Morgana as her mother or something.

Morgana closed her eyes, stroking Aithusia’s neck a moment and whispering to her. When Morgana returned to them, Gwen’s breaths now shorter and sharper as the pain got worse, Aithusia followed.

“This will not hurt,” Morgana insisted to Gwen, squeezing her hand slightly. “Trust me.”

And Gwen obviously did because she didn’t flinch at all when Aithusia bent down, gently nudging at the wound, sniffing at it a moment before drawing back her head. Isolde could see what she was going to do and almost protested but she bit her lip, the insistence that she had to trust Morgana overriding what would appear to be common sense.

Aithusia shrieked as she blew flame over the wound, the sound painfully sharp up close. There was little heat, neither Gwen’s leg or clothing affected by the fire. The blade started to glow though and, when she stopped, it remained a bright orange.

“This,” Morgana continued regretfully, “will not be so painless.”

She looked to Isolde in silent instruction, and Isolde nodded, holding Gwen tighter. 

Morgana didn’t wait around and that was probably for the best, swiftly pulling out the knife. Gwen screamed with pain, arching in Isolde’s arms. It was the most terrifying sound Isolde had ever heard and it made her heart beat in fear, her hand stroking Gwen’s hair in desperate comfort.

“It’s okay, my love,” she whispered hurriedly. “It’s okay. It’s out now. You’re all right. You’ll be all right.”

She could still feel Gwen shaking hard but, looking at the wound, it was mostly sealed and there was little fresh bleeding. 

“Take her to the house,” Morgana instructed, rubbing the back of Gwen’s hand with reassurance. Things were still strained between them sometimes, such deep, old wounds taking longer to heal than this one, but the affection there was clear. “I’ll bring some supplies and come dress it properly.”

***********************

The house was one of several that’d been abandoned by fleeing villagers and Gwen and her companions been offered it as somewhere to stay. In many ways, Isolde preferred the comforts of one of their forest camps - the freedom and the open air - but at the moment, she was very grateful to have a proper bed to lay Gwen on.

She carried her over to it, gently setting her down before hurrying to fetch a bowl of water and a cloth. She perched on the bed’s edge, fearful of hurting Gwen if she caused her to shift too much.

“I am so sorry,” she murmured, running the cloth over Gwen’s face, wiping the perspiration away, hoping to make her more comfortable. Her skills as a healer were non-existent but she could at least do that.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Gwen assured her, her breathing already easier and some of her colour returning.

Isolde all but ignored her, her guilt insistent. “I should have been paying better attention. I was careless.”

“It was hardly all your fault. I kissed you, remember?”

“I was treating it all like a game.”

Isolde was angry at herself. She’d, by her own admission, been enjoying the fight, taking a thrill from it. She hadn’t once acknowledged that it was no diverting romp; that it might cost one of them dearly, including Gwen, who she’d sworn to protect.

A soft frown of concern on her face, Gwen’s hand came to rest against Isolde’s cheek, gentle and tender. It almost burnt.

“We were helping those villagers. We all know the risks, even if we don’t want to admit them.”

Gwen always was very good at seeing the best in people and trying to get them to believe in themselves. Sometimes she was far too kind though.

“I said I’d protect you,” Isolde reminded her. “I promised.”

“And I could’ve found any old loyal solider to do that.” Gwen’s look was resolute, not giving any weight to Isolde’s guilt. “I love you because you’re you. Because you’re wild and sometimes reckless and make my heart beat faster just by looking at you. You think your boldness in battle is a weakness but it’s saved us a dozen times over. We need you bold and I’m entirely selfish; I don’t want you to change.”

“Even if it means you end up hurt?”

“You’ve protected me, bled for me, don’t you think it was time I got a chance to restore the balance? We promised to always be fair.”

Isolde hesitated. That much was true and she accepted that she’d hate it if the tables were turned unfairly in Gwen’s direction. Despite what she often teased, Gwen wasn’t her queen; they were meant to be equals here and should be allowed to take equal care of each other. Gwen had done exactly what Isolde would’ve in the circumstances and it felt selfish and patronising to deny her that right. Isolde still felt some uncertainty - what she wanted and what was right conflicting - but she pushed it down, hiding behind the veil of a small smile.

“Is that an order from my queen?”

“It’s a command,” Gwen smiled too, seeming relieved that they’d apparently come to an understanding. She drew Isolde close for a slow, sweet kiss that lasted until they were near breathless. “Now, you need to take off my breeches.”

A little more of Isolde’s smile returned, impish almost. “I don’t really think it’s time for-”

“So you can clean the wound,” Gwen clarified with an arched eyebrow.

Isolde’s smile widened fully as she undid the breeches and pulled them away, being very gentle around the inflamed and angry looking flesh. She pulled Gwen’s shirt down a little, trying to preserve her modesty, but she needn’t have bothered; when Morgana arrived a moment later she pushed it back up, not batting an eyelid at Gwen’s half naked state.

“It will be fine in a day or so,” Morgana assured them both as she applied a salve she’d quickly made and followed it with a bandage. “But you must rest, at least a day in bed to let it heal properly.”

Gwen had never been very good at sitting around though and she immediately tried to sit up in something like rebellion. “What about the villagers? Is everything all right now? They’ll want to talk with me surely?”

Morgana pushed her back down. “All in good time. The men are gone and Morgause and I will talk to the villagers. Then we’ll ride out and check there are no straggling attackers. We’ll be back later. You just rest.”

Gwen started to protest but Morgana was insistent yet with a tender edge underlying it. She leaned across and pressed a kiss to Gwen’s forehead, enough to make Gwen relent. So skillful in fact that it might have been planned. Isolde honestly wouldn’t put it passed her; Morgana cared for certain, but she was also a master at manipulating to get what she wanted.

Gwen didn’t seem to be having any such thoughts, looking up at Morgana with open, honest eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You can thank me by not getting hurt again.”

It was a sentiment that Isolde heartily agreed with.

 

*********************

It was very late by the time that Morgana and Morgause returned. Gwen had tried to stay awake until they were back safely but she’d been dragged into a heavy sleep, exhausted by the blood loss she’d suffered and the shock of the injury. Isolde had curled up with her, arms wrapped protectively around her, and had resolved to stay awake, knowing it would ease Gwen’s conscience. She only realised that she’d drifted off herself when whispering voices woke her.

She heard the clonk of boots and the rustle of clothes before the bed dipped. One naked body pressed up behind hers, arm sliding around her waist. Isolde and Gwen were already both undressed, having felt the unspoken need to have skin next to skin. None of them had qualms about the notion of modesty around each other any more and it was a comfort to feel another body.

“All well?” Isolde asked.

“Perfectly.” That was Morgause and she pressed kiss to Isolde’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

Morgana must have got in the other side, behind Gwen, because Isolde felt the bed dip a little again before settling.

Content and satisfied, she allowed herself to drift off once more.

She didn’t open her eyes again until very early dawn, warm sunshine creeping around the edges of the shutters that did a poor job of keeping the daylight out. Curled behind her, Morgause was still breathing soft and steady. Morgana, equally asleep, curled around Gwen, her hand resting across the other woman’s stomach.

Gwen, surprisingly, was already awake.

“Good morning,” she smiled, brightening the room in an instant. She pressed a playful kiss to the tip of Isolde’s nose. She certainly looked much better this morning.

“How’s the leg?” Isolde asked, hand absently caressing at her waist, giving in to the natural urge to touch her.

“Sore,” Gwen admitted. “But not too bad considering.”

“Considering you could have been killed,” Isolde finished bluntly. She wouldn’t let herself forget that for quite some time.

Gwen seemed to have other ideas though, rolling her eyes.

“Stop that,” she insisted, shuffling a little closer to press tiny kisses to Isolde’s lips, clearly meaning them to be a distraction. They did their job well.

Despite an instinct telling her that it wasn’t chivalrous in the circumstances, Isolde turned them into something deeper, opening her mouth to Gwen, letting the other woman make her forget everything for a moment.

“It will never happen,” she eventually promised, breathless, hands running over Gwen’s warm skin. So alive. “I can’t stop. I’ll always protect you.”

“You might have some help.”

Isolde raised her head to see that Morgana was awake and watching them with a small smirk, her dark hair tumbling across her cream shoulders as she propped herself up on her elbow. She was stroking Gwen’s arm with her fingertips and Isolde could see the little shivers that caused.

“I’m okay with that,” Isolde said with a slight grin, catching Morgana’s very subtle double meaning.

After such a horrible day, she reasoned, they deserved a little frivolity.

Gwen was always intuitive and looked between them with suspicion. “Why do I feel like you’re ganging up on me?”

“I think I would term it ‘showing their joint appreciation for your good health’,” Morgause reasoned with a rather wicked smile, clearly very awake now too. She moved her hand across to the one Morgana still had laying on Gwen’s stomach, and then up to caress Gwen’s breasts shamelessly. “It’s a sentiment I share.”

Isolde was always impressed by her ability to make the most formal words sound like a seduction.

Gwen bit her lip, leaning back against Morgana as Morgause’s thumb circled her nipple, causing it to harden. It seemed a distinct agreement to their terms.

The agreement remained unspoken but they all adhered to it and Isolde couldn’t remember seeing anything more beautifully erotic than Gwen being pleasured by the three of them. She kissed Gwen deep, hard and demanding, feeling the sorceress’s hands pressed between their bodies as she did so. Morgause’s moved to the other breast, pinching Gwen’s nipple and making her gasp whilst Morgana’s moved down. Isolde could feel the movement and pulled back just enough to watch the dark, heated look on Gwen’s face as Morgana’s fingers slid between her thighs and started to stroke. Gwen’s breath caught and Isolde could see the wetness already on Morgana’s fingers; it made her grin and she kissed Gwen hard again. Long moments later, she began to move down her body, feeling the tightening in Gwen’s stomach muscles, clearly knowing what Isolde intended. Morgana was just as intuitive, pausing to part Gwen’s leg, carefully drawing the injured one back over her own thighs and leaving Gwen open to Isolde who settled between her legs.

“So very eager,” Isolde teased, kissing Gwen’s wet inner thighs and moving slowly up to her centre.

She got a very good view as Morgana curled an arm under Gwen’s leg, sliding two fingers into her willing body and leaving Isolde free to pleasure that swollen bundle of flesh that she ached to take between her lips.

Taking no pity on an increasingly aroused and writhing Gwen, Morgause moved too, mouth kissing Gwen’s breasts, sucking gently, tongue swirling in perfect rhythm with the actions of other two women. It meant that Isolde could no longer see Gwen’s face, but she could hear her - her moans and sighs of pleasure, the tiny gasps of her increasingly short breath - and she could still feel her body move, hips rocking in time with Morgana’s thrusts and the flicks of Isolde’s tongue. She could even almost taste Gwen’s arousal getting deeper by the moment. They were all gentle with her and the intensity of such slow passion made Gwen simultaneously surrender and possess them; she had a hand each in the sorceress’s hair and her uninjured leg curled around Isolde. They were hers as much as she was their, writhing under their ministrations.

Gwen became lost between them so quickly, completely falling apart as she reached her climax, unable to say any of their names, instead using a ragged exclamation of ‘my loves…’ that made Isolde want to wrap herself in the three of them and not leave. Even by the time she withdrew her mouth and shifted back up Gwen’s body again, Morgause making room for her, Gwen was still breathless and flushed.

It took her several minutes of just laying entangled with them to Gwen to find the energy to speak.

“Well,” she finally said with a sigh, “it is a very good job that I’m an exceptional patient.”

Isolde looked at her skeptically, knowing that was rarely true. “Oh yes?”

Gwen gave her that wicked look that she so little used and yet did so well.

“Yes. Our resident physician has order me to spend a day in bed. Which is fortunate when I have so much payback to do.”

She turned, kissing Morgana passionately, hand already sliding down the sorceress’s warm body. And giving Isolde a look that was all tease, telling her that she was next.

Isolde grinned, leaning back against Morgause. “You’d think she’d want to take it easy today too.”

“There’s nothing like facing mortality to make you feel more alive,” Morgause reasoned, kissing her shoulder slowly as she felt Isolde wince at that reminder. “After all, what better way to ward off death than with a celebration of life?”

Isolde nodded, seeing the sense in that. 

“Feeling alive in battle keeps me alive too,” Morgause soothed, almost as if she read her thoughts. “You should use that well; hang to life for all of us. Always do anything that makes you feel alive.”

Isolde nodded to herself. “I intend to.”

Damn, Morgause was quick; Isolde tried to take her off guard and pin her to the bed, but Morgause pounced on her in a moment, turning the tables entirely.

“It seems,” Morgause smirked, a curtain of blonde curls shielding Morgana and Gwen from them, although their sounds of pleasure were still clear, “I have much still to teach you though.”

Isolde arched up, nipping challengingly at her lips. “Then teach me.”

Isolde hadn’t always trusted Morgause and it’d taken them a long time to reach an understanding. Now though, she respected the sorceress greatly and she was proven right yet again; by the end of the morning, they all very much felt alive and Isolde felt far better for it.


End file.
